


The Game

by tjmystic



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Coda, Episode: s13e01 Lost and Found, Gen, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-04-08 04:31:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14097276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tjmystic/pseuds/tjmystic
Summary: They didn't play The Game often.  Really, now that Dean thought about it, they hadn't played it in years.  Not since… damn, not since before Sam left for Stanford.They played it all the time when they were kids, though.  Dean started it, in the beginning. It was an easy way to make Sam smile.  "Mom would have tickled you after she tucked you in." "Mom would have bought you balloons for your birthday."  It broke his heart a little, even as young as he was, but it was worth it to see Sam smile. For his little brother, it was just a happy fantasy.  For Dean, it was an ugly reminder.





	The Game

**Author's Note:**

  * For [deathtosanepeople](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathtosanepeople/gifts).



"Kevin and Charlie would have been best friends."

Dean lowered his rag, half-soaked already with blood and ash.  A thick wrinkle tightened between his eyebrows, and it stung like a motherfucker.  He forgot about the cut on his forehead.

"What'd you say?"

"I said, Kevin and Charlie would have been best friends."

Sam took a drag from his beer, eyes downcast, a muscle just above his cheekbone twitching.  That was all Dean needed to understand him, though - Sam was starting The Game.

They didn't play The Game often.  Really, now that Dean thought about it, they hadn't played it in years.  Not since… damn, not since before Sam left for Stanford. 

They played it all the time when they were kids, though.  Dean started it, in the beginning. It was an easy way to make Sam smile.  "Mom would have tickled you after she tucked you in." "Mom would have bought you balloons for your birthday."  It broke his heart a little, even as young as he was, but it was worth it to see Sam smile. For his little brother, it was just a happy fantasy.  For Dean, it was an ugly reminder. 

But, still, they kept playing.  "Mom would have taught you how to iron your pants."  "Mom would have laughed about you getting caught on that girl's braces when you kissed her."

It got harder as they got older, if only because of the rules.  There were only two, both unspoken but understood - they never talked about what their life actually was, and they never said "if she was alive".  The never said, "Mom would have made us meatloaf for supper, not the shitty Kraft Mac that's the only meal I can cook." They never said, "Mom would have made you finish school, not like dad, who just wants you in the field with him."

They never said it, because there was no point.

Then, somewhere between Dean getting his GED and Sam hoarding college brochures, they stopped playing altogether. 

It was strange how easy it was to pick back up.  Especially since The Game wasn't just for Mom this time around.

Nodding, Dean lowered his cloth.  The map room table looked more like a bar or an ER unit, than the half-a-library it usually was.  Bloody gauze and bandages and drained bottles littered everything. Sam had just finished stitching up his own elbow. 

It wasn't like they had someone to heal them.  Not anymore.

At that thought, Dean reached for the bottle of Jack.

"Yeah, they would have.  Ash, too." He took a long swig, not even feeling the burn as it slid down his throat.  A dry laugh bubbled up after it. "Fuck, her and Ash would have themselves on the FBI's most wanted within a week."

"Three days, tops," Sam agreed.  "She'd make him go to Moondoor with her.  Both him and Kevin."

"Kevin might like it.  He played that game - what was it? - Cloudrim - "

" _ Sky _ rim, Dean."

"Well excuse me, nerd."

"Dork."

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

Dean flipped him the bird, then reached again for the bottle.  An honest-to-God smile lit up his face.

"Charlie'd hit on Jo like nobody's business."

This time, Sam was the one who laughed.  "Ten bucks says Jo would deck her."

"Nah, she'd be flattered.  Probably never had another woman try to get into her pants."

Sam rolled his eyes, but the movement was broken when he suddenly snorted, a smile twisting his lips.  "Oh God, imagine Kevin and  _ Pamela _ ."

Dean threw his head back and laughed.  God, it hurt his throat, but it was worth it.  He could just picture Pamela getting right up in Kevin's business.  There weren't words.

"Kid wouldn't stand a chance.  Poor Mrs. Tran."

Sam nodded, hair falling into his face, and set down his beer to grab at Dean's liquor.  "Bobby'd get a real kick out of it, though." He took a fierce swallow. "He'd have to get his kicks somehow.  Ellen and Jody would gang up on him. Probably get help from Mrs. Tran, too. He'd have a mile-long honey-do list."

Dean's fingers shook. "He'd be damn unbearable.  Probably take it all out on Claire and Alex to make up for it.  He'd bitch at them for being the damned most ungrateful daughters ever."

"Daughters."  Sam ran a hand threw his hair.  Dean didn't need to look to know that it was shaking.  "That'd be a new one for him."

Something definitely burned Dean's mouth this time, but it wasn't the whiskey.  He turned away from his little brother. The clock on the wall ticked past one. 

"Mom -"  Sam's voice broke.  Dean clenched his eyelids tight past the sound.  "Mom would've loved Claire. And Alex. And Charlie."

"She'd have loved everybody, Sammy."  The silence that followed threatened to strangle them, so Dean laughed, choked and dry in his Jacked-up throat.  "God, she'd have to, to balance out Dad. Imagine the hell he'd raise."

Sam snorted.  "He'd have killed Crowley."

"And Rowena."

"And Gabriel."

"And Garth."

"And Benny." 

"And Chuck, while he was at it."

For that one, he actually got Sam to flip him off.  Dean smirked. "Yeah, well, he would've gotten you, too, Mr. Knight of Hell."

"And you, Mr. Lucifer's Prom Dress."

"And Cas."

Dean didn't even try to laugh that one away.  He couldn't. Whatever sound meant to come out instead was drowned with the rest of the bottle.  "He woulda tried, anyway."

Sam lowered his own bottle, both eyebrows disappearing into his hairline.

"You're saying that Cas could take dad?"

He didn't miss the inflection Sam put on the word "you".  Still, he refused to acknowledge it past pointing his bottle in Sam's direction.

"I'm sayin' if anybody stood a chance in Hell, it woulda been him."

Both of their eyes settled on the empty spot on their couch.

Somewhere in the depths of the Bunker, teenage feet skittered down a hall.  Dean grit his teeth, fingers clenching the lip of the bottle. He could feel Sam worrying over him like a splash of cold water. 

"Dean," he sighed, "we need to -"

Dean didn't stay around to hear whatever they needed to do.  They  _ needed _ to do everything, it seemed, since he was four and Sham wasn't even one. 

Right now, all he needed to fucking do was sleep.  Far away from the spawn of Satan down the hall.

Joints cracking, he stood to his feet and grabbed the last bottle of whiskey.  The empty spot on the couch glared at him when he walked by. 

“Don’t really matter now,” he muttered.  “Dad and Cas are both… well, it don’t fucking matter.”

Sam didn’t say anything to that.  There wasn’t anything  _ to  _ say.

But they both knew it would be the last time they ever played The Game.

**Author's Note:**

> This is essentially just plotless angst. I was overwhelmed with hurt after the season 13 premiere, and this was how I channeled my tears. You're welcome.


End file.
